


Sera's Satinalia Surprise

by Chellendora



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Humor, M/M, One-Shot, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chellendora/pseuds/Chellendora
Summary: Josephine wanted to throw a proper Satinalia celebration for the Inquisiton's allies, but Sera has other plans.





	Sera's Satinalia Surprise

**_Sera’s Satinalia Surprise_ **

Skyhold steadily filled to capacity with people from all over Southern Thedas as they arrived in time for Satinalia. There was a discernible thrill in the air that no one had felt since Haven. The kitchen staff worked around the clock, and Ambassador Josephine Montilyet was scurrying here and there seeing to arriving guests and preparations for the festivities. Long tables were brought into the main hall, lined on all sides with carefully labeled place settings. Josephine oversaw this, clutching her clipboard to her as she checked items off her list.

“No, no, no…” she fussed, startling an elven servant who was placing the name placards on the tables. “Duchess de Val Montaigne cannot be next to Duchess de Savrenne! There is still bad blood between them over Sahrnia.”

“Who should I move, Lady Ambassador?” asked the young elf.

“Duchess de Val Montaigne and Duke Genelle can be swapped,” Josie said after studying the seating chart on her clipboard for a quick few moments.

“If everyone wore _masks_ it wouldn’t matter.” Sera stepped around Josephine, as if appearing from thin air.

Josephine sighed, unable to keep all of the exasperation from her tone. “We’ve been through this, Sera. I want to keep the Game in Orlais as best I can. This celebration is an opportunity to make connections and—”

“Yeah, yeah. Blah blah blah.” Sera sat on the table, pulling her legs up beneath her. “But you’re gonna crown the town fool, yeah? Or…fortress…fool…That needs work.”

Josephine shooed the young archer off the table with her clipboard. “I will not humiliate one of our guests!”

“It don’t have to be a guest, do it? You could give it to Blackwall. No, no! _Dorian_!”

“I am not crowning a fool. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s much work to be done to be ready for tomorrow. Oh and Sera, _please_ try to find a shirt without stains.”

“No promises.” Sera stuck her tongue out at Josephine and then took off running, brushing close to the ambassador on her way out of the hall.

Josephine drew a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to be distracted at the moment, she just had to hope Sera didn’t cause any trouble.

x

Sera entered the garden kicking her legs out in front of her with each step. She was muttering to herself about “pish posh pompous nobles.” Several of said dignitaries conversing nearby sent her disapproving looks, but Sera wasn’t paying attention to them. The gears in her mind were turning and pacing the garden was just something to do while her brain worked out its idea, like the movement of her legs was powering her thoughts. 

It seems they were not, however, watching for obstacles in her path, so when she bumped into the potted elfroot plants the Inquisitor kept, she yelped with surprise and face-planted into the dirt. 

She placed one hand on the edge on either side and pushed herself up. Her face was clotted with soil, but she was grinning and her eyes were shining. “That’s it!”

She scrambled out of the pot and ran toward the door to the main hall, leaving a trail of dirt and elfroot leaves in her wake. She headed for the Inquisitor’s chambers, because she had the perfect plan and it hinged on the Inquisitor saying “yes.”

x

It was the night of Satinalia and Skyhold shone like a beacon amongst the Frostbacks. Josephine had gone to meticulous pains to ensure each guest was sitting with a backdrop of their house crest during dinner, so the main hall’s walls were carpeted with dozens of different colors and heraldry ranging from the mundane to the silly to the downright frightening. Large centerpieces strategically blocked sightlines between guests who were less than friendly, and the ambassador prayed that they would not simply lean around them to jeer at one another. She hoped that the evening went well; she wanted their allies to feel as if they know the Inquisition, but only as she presented them.

Everyone was dressed in formal gowns and jackets befitting warmer climates, but Lady Montilyet had anticipated this. She had someone tending the fires through the entire event, to prevent the hall from growing too cold, or too warm. She greeted each and every one as they entered, and when everyone was sitting with drinks in hand, Klaus Trevelyan, the Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, stood up from his place at the front table and the hall grew silent. 

Inquisitor Trevelyan always seemed to be smirking, but the nobles found it charming. Apparently so did Dorian Pavus, who sat to his right, watching his leader with infallible affection. Josie sat to his left, a polite but bright smile adorning her face.

Klaus pushed shaggy brown hair from his face and cleared his throat. “On behalf of the Inquisition and myself, I want to welcome you to Skyhold. I know the journey is a hard one so it pleases me to see so many of our allies join us to celebrate Satinalia this evening. We are humbled by your devotion.” He held his glass up, surveying the hall and nodding as they raised their glasses in response.

Varric leaned close to Sera and muttered, “I wrote his speech. What do you think?”

“It needs bees,” Sera shot back and then returned her attention to the center of their table. Varric looked caught between confusion and worry.

“We have our lovely Ambassador Lady Josephine Montilyet and her team to thank for this beautifully decorated hall and fine music provided by Skyhold’s resident bard, Maryden.”

Dorian had leaned back to enjoy the view of the Inquisitor’s rear-end and Josephine was reaching behind to smack the back of his head when the entirety of the crowd turned to look at her and applaud. She quickly withdrew her hand and recovered by waving gently to the people and bowing her head to hide her blush. She could see Dorian smirking out of the corner of her eyes, and when the Inquisitor spoke again there was a bit of humor in his voice.

“Once again, thank you for being here tonight. Now please, enjoy Feastday brought to you by the Inquisition!”

“…brought to you by the Inquisition,” Varric finished in tandem with Klaus, looking as if he might shed a proud tear as the main hall filled with applause.

Sera made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes. “They’re just _words_. They’re not even really real, are they?”

“Their impact is very real, though, isn’t it?” Varric replied nonplussed. 

A little further down the table Josephine was chastising Dorian. The Tevinter looked positively bored and the Inquisitor was awkwardly eating a salad, which had a very long and complicated Orlesian name.

“ _Why_ did you have to ogle the Inquisitor’s posterior while every important eye in Southern Thedas was upon him?” she demanded, resembling a stern mother.

“Because I knew it would bring you strife, my dear,” said Dorian with a sly grin. “And have you seen it? It’s quite magnificent.”

Klaus started to choke and downed his goblet of wine.

Despite Josephine’s worries, the night progressed smoothly with laughter, delicious main courses, and enough wine for everyone. Maryden played her tavern songs to the guests’ delight, even striking up “Sera” until she caught the elf woman’s evil eye from across the room. She muttered about an untuned string and quickly launched into a different tune.

“I think your party has been a success, Josie,” Inquisitor Trevelyan said as the dessert carts began to roll up and down the tables, laden with cakes, cookies, tarts, pies, and jellies. He chose an apple tart for himself.

Josephine politely turned her dessert down. “I am much too full, but thank you.” She turned to give the Inquisitor a slight smile. “It’s gone swimmingly so far, but I won’t call it a success until everyone has safely gone home tomorrow.” 

“You’re going to worry yourself into the grave!” Dorian exclaimed, holding up a bite of cake on a fork. “Here, have a bite. It won’t kill you!” He reached across Klaus to shove the cake toward Josephine.

She huffed but complied, daintily picking the bite off the fork with her teeth.

“Now we’re a spectacle,” Klaus chuckled.

Josephine glared. “The two of you deserve each other.”

When dessert was consumed, most of the guests congregated in the middle of the hall to dance. Josephine, with Inquisitor in tow, spoke to every single guest. Klaus lost track of how many daughters he had to dance with, and he could have sworn one was actually a son. He was dancing with a pretty young woman whose name he’d forgotten when he started to feel something he knew all too well, but shouldn’t be feeling at that moment. He suddenly felt warm, tension draining away from his muscles. An easy smile had slid over his face, and he just realized his eyes were drooping.

He was _high_. And not just high, but higher than a fucking _dragon_.

He studied his dance partner. She had gone loose as well, and when he looked into her eyes the whites were as pink as her cheeks. She started to giggle at the eye contact. 

“I am so sorry, Inquisitor,” she said in an Orlesian accent, “but for some reason I suddenly feel so warm and relaxed. Perhaps I drank too much.”

“That’s just my dancing,” Klaus suavely replied and then excused himself, trying not to run across the hall to Josephine. As he waded through the crowd he realized the atmosphere of the room had relaxed further than he thought possible at a formal gathering of the powerful.

Josephine turned to face him with shock. “Inquisitor! You’re supposed to be dancing with Marquise Hedinelle’s niece!”

Klaus took her by the elbow and led her out of earshot of the guests, which essentially put them behind the throne. “We have a problem…well, maybe. But definitely a situation.”

Josephine’s eyes widened. “Please explain.”

“Sera came to me earlier today and asked if she could use some of my elfroot plants.”

Josephine looked blank. “Elfroot? Why—”

She was interrupted when Varric suddenly ran around the throne and flattened his back against it, breathing heavily and looking panicked. 

“Varric?”

“Shh, Inquisitor!” the dwarf hissed. “They’ll hear you!”

“Who will hear us?” demanded Josephine, her dread growing.

“Shh!”

“Sera put elfroot in the desserts, and I don’t mean the medicinal leaves,” Klaus said quickly to Josephine.

“She WHAT?”

“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing! What harm could a bunch of high and drunk nobles cause?”

Josephine’s expression promised how much harm she could cause him, but at the moment she had a situation to handle.

As she stepped around the throne her path was blocked by a noblewoman vomiting on the steps and then laughing about it, sick stuck to her chin. Josephine covered her mouth and nose with her hand and hurried away.

Several of the guests were noticeably red-faced and loose in the limbs while others looked so rigid and immobile it was as if they were frozen by magic. As Josephine scurried toward the entrance she was impeded by a candle falling from the ceiling and cracking at her feet. She looked up, watching in muted horror as Sera swung all around on the chandelier, whooping and hollering.

“Sera!” Josephine shouted, startling a group of Fereldan banns into a fit of giggles nearby. “Get down here _now_ , Sera!”

“Eat cake!” giggled Sera and she gripped the chain of the chandelier, swinging it around again.

Josephine growled under her breath and turned to face the hall again. Two nobles were wearing their house banners from the wall and were slapping aimlessly at each other on top of one of the tables, their wives cheering them on. A group of women had cornered the burly Marquis de Cheuffon and were using several of the banners to fashion him a dress, and someone had pooled a resource of lipsticks and created a ghastly look. De Cheuffon seemed to be lavishing in the attention, however, so Josephine attempted to break up the slap fight.

The door to Solas’s atrium opened and the elf peeked around to see what the commotion coming from the hall was about, and instantly regretted his decision when a full piece of cake hit him squarely in the face. He tossed the plate to the ground where it shattered and slammed the door shut.

Varric still clung to the back of the throne but now Dorian was standing in its seat dancing like a promiscuous woman from the brothels of Minrathous. Even more shocking was Leliana and Cassandra on either side of him mimicking his moves with far more ease than the Inquisitor could take. Klaus was leaning on the front table, laughing so hard his face was red and he thought he might choke. 

The Iron Bull, Krem, and the rest of the Chargers were sitting in a corner taking turns throwing dessert at each other. When Commander Cullen attempted to pass by he was hit in the side of the head with gelatin and stopped to exclaim, “Augh! There’s jelly in my ear!” which caused all of them to collapse in a fit of snorts and giggles. 

Blackwall filled his arms with as many cookies as he could carry. When he had almost all of them, he left the hall and retreated to his barn, where he proceeded to eat them all.

Vivienne, who had been watching the display from her balcony, finally had enough. She snapped her fingers and at once everyone not a member of the Inquisition was frozen in ice. She sauntered down the stairs and walked out into the hall, tsking and tutting at the spectacle before her. “My, my…Lady Montilyet, you really let this one get away from you, my dear. But not too worry.” She patted Josephine’s cheek, smiling condescendingly. “I can put this to rights in no time. Bull, my dear?”

Iron Bull and the Chargers immediately snapped to attention, dripping icing and jelly.

“Take each and every one of these nobles and put them to bed. With any luck, they’ll wake on the morrow and believe it all to be a dream.” 

“Thank you, Vivienne,” Josephine said with obvious embarrassment. Sera continued to swing around on the chandelier above them, singing horribly out of tune.

“Do not let it happen again, I may not feel so gracious then.” Vivienne frowned and glanced up at Sera. “You may deal with that one.”

As the First Enchanter left Klaus and Dorian walked up to Josephine, shoulders slumping like children awaiting a scolding. She simply sighed and shook her head, waving them away and moving for the door to her office.

x

Josephine sat at her desk, staring forlornly down at the wood grain. She was not focused on it, but instead the events of the night as they repeated through her mind. She didn’t stir when the door to her office opened and Sera entered, standing just inside the door for a moment before approaching her desk. She didn’t say anything, just stood there with her arms behind her back. Finally, Josephine sighed.

“Congratulations, Sera,” she said, her voice tired and without the malice she had tried to conjure. “You crowned a Feastday Fool tonight, and it was me.”

Sera frowned. She brought her hands out from around her back and set a plate of cookies in front of Josephine. The ambassador looked up at the elf, suspicion clear in her eyes.

“These aren’t special. They’re plain old boring cookies that taste like I’m sorry and you’re not a fool.” She nodded and left swiftly, gently shutting the office door behind her.

Josephine picked up one of the cookies and sniffed it. She took a bite and quickly spit it out. 

“These are the worst cookies I’ve ever had!”

**_End._ **

**After Credits Scene**

Cole sat on top of the barn, munching down his third cookie and kicking his legs excitedly. He wasn’t needed tonight, everyone was having fun. It felt good to not be needed.

_Cookies, elfroot, warmth, energy, friendship, freedom, no more pain, no more worry._

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is dedeicated to the members of the Facebook group "The Dragon Age Universe."


End file.
